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(ALLY DUT< 


A TRUE STORY 

Written by Beth Proctor 
Illustrated by Fay Turpin 


'Published by 

JORDAN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
^ CHICAGO U.S.A A 








JORDAN 

PUBLISHING 

COMPANY 



PRINTED IN U. S. A. 


OCT 15 1924 

©Cl A807353 










DEDICATION 


T O that brave and loyal hero¬ 
ine of the early days of our 
great country, 

Sally Dutcher, 

This book is lovingly dedicated. 
















/ 










n 










PREFACE 


ease® 

INCREASED understanding and pleasure are ours 
when the beauty and mystery of other lives are 
unfolded to us. To those of us who live in com¬ 
fort and even luxury, the lack of bare necessities 
which marked the pioneer days of our country 
would seem a hardship, if not a calamity. 

But it is to those brave and fearless pioneers 
that we are indebted for the great cities, our 
towns, churches, schools and factories of today. 
They were the vanguard of our present civiliza¬ 
tion. They felled the trees, cleared the land, made 
roads, and conquered wild men and beasts that 
we might live in comfort and safety. 

It is into one of these advance guards of civ¬ 
ilization that we are permitted to look inti¬ 
mately for a time in the story of LITTLE SALLY 
DuTCHER. Something of the spirit of cheer and 
courage in meeting danger and hardship is con¬ 
veyed to the reader, and he cannot close the book 
without admiring and honoring those sturdy 
founders of the world's greatest nation. 

This is a true story of the period immediately 
following the American Revolution. In it is de¬ 
picted the romance of the first westward urge 
which was replete with adventure. The heroine, 
Sally Dutcher, was a real person whose name 
will forever stand as a type of the strength and 
sweetness of the pioneer girl and woman. 

If the story of her early life entertains you, 
the aim of the author has been accomplished, 
and if your appreciation of the early history 
of our country and its pioneers is increased, then 
Little Sally Dutcher will have reason to 
be satisfied. 












Little Sally Dutcher 

PART ONE 

ME, children, wake up,” called mother from the foot 
of the ladder, for the children slept in the loft in the 
summer time. 

“Yes, mother,” answered Sally. Then, to her sleep- 

ing brother: 

“Wake up, Joe. See, the sun is over the top of the hill 
already.” 

Sally bounded across the floor, and seised a pillow from her 
brother's bed and pounded him playfully. Joe scrambled out and 
there was a tussle for a few moments, before he took the pillow 
away from his sister. 

“I'll race you getting dressed and down the ladder,” he said. 
“That isn't fair. You haven't got curls to comb out and I have. 
Mother makes me do it every morning,” said Sally. 













LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


With a gleeful whoop, Joe climbed down the ladder to the 
one room below, which was dining room, kitchen, living room 
and bedroom combined. For Sally’s and Joe’s mother and father 
were settlers in the early days of our country, and their home was 
a log cabin with a single room. 

“Joe, get me a pail of water,” said mother. 

“Sally, turn these pancakes, and be careful not to burn your' 
self,” for Sally had appeared, her shining hair neatly combed. 

Everywhere in the little square cabin was cheer, with prepa' 
rations for the new day busily under way. 

“Sit right down, father. You must get an early start for the 
settlement.” 

It was a rare event for father to ride to the nearest settlement, 
twenty miles away, for supplies.He had to make the trip on Molly, 
the white mare, because the path was so rough and narrow that 
it was impossible to drive a wagon through the woods. The early 
settlers did not own any other conveyance. 

Joe brought the pail of water, but, in his hurry, he spilled it, 
and was sent back to the spring for another. 

“My father used to tell me Taste makes waste,’ son,” said Mr. 
Dutcher, for that was Joe’s father’s name. 

If Joe was careless, Sally was not, for she turned pancakes 
with a steady hand, like the little housekeeper she was. Soon a 
great brown pile of cakes was heaped upon a platter, and break' 
fast was ready. 

“Father, will you bring me home a knife? You know I will 
be five years old this summer,” asked Joe. 

“I should like to have a dress for my doll, please,” said Sally. 

“Children, you must be patient and see what father can bring 
home for you. You know we need flour and tea in exchange for 
the otter skins father is taking to the settlement.” 

“Maybe I can find something sweet to bring to my little 
folks; that ought to be a treat,” replied father. 

“Yes, indeed,” cried Joe and Sally in one breath. “We haven’t 
had any sugar since Christmas.” 





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LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


Soon breakfast was over. The mare was saddled and waiting 
at the door. Such hurrying to get the last bundle tied to the 
saddle. There were the otter skins to be exchanged for flour. 
There was father’s powder horn and flint lock for protection from 
wild animals and Indians, no white man being safe without a gun 
at hand. Father’s was slung across the pommel of the saddle. 

"Wait, father, you are forgetting your dried biscuit and meat. 
You will not be back until late.” 

So father, with his knapsack on his back, after many kisses and 
laughter, was ready to start. He turned to wave good-bye before 
he disappeared among the trees. 

"I wish daddy didn’t have to go,” sobbed Joe. You may think 
Joe was a coward to want his father to stay home, but, young 
though he was, Joe had heard of Indians who did not like the 
white men. 

"Come, children,” said mother. "We have a great deal to do 
today. Mother is baking bread, and will need plenty of wood 
for the fire.” 

The children needed no second bidding. With little arms 
piled high they sped from wood pile to fireplace until mother 
said she had enough. 

Outside, the world was new and tender with early sum' 
mer. The birds sang overhead or called to each other from tree 
to tree. The sunshine touched the leaves with loving gentleness. 
Through the trees, the clear blue water of the lake sparkled and 
danced. The air was warm and sweet with the scent of flowers 
and moist earth. 

"Oh, Joey, isn’t it lovely? I could just sniff the air forever.” 

"Huh, I would rather eat than sniff,” said Joe in disgust. 

A long wail rose on the still morning air. Joe and Sally ran 
into the cabin and to the cradle, where baby John was just wak' 
ing up. 

Sally picked up her little brother from his wooden cradle. 

"Mother, may I bathe baby brother this morning? You said 
I might when you were busy.” 


A TRUE STORY 


“Are you sure he is not too heavy for you, Sally?” her mother 
asked. 

“Oh, no,” she answered. 

In that day little girls were taught to wash, cook and sew from 
their earliest years. Sally bathed her little brother as carefully as 
his mother might have. Then, she placed him in his cradle for 
his morning nap. 

Joe stood by as his mother kneaded great lumps of dough, 
soon to be baked into loaves of fragrant bread. He never tired of 
watching the soft mass spread and shape under his mother's 
hands. 

Meanwhile Sally had cleared away the breakfast things and 
washed the dishes. She was too short to reach to the cupboard 
where the dishes belonged, so she set them upon the table for 
mother to put away. Joe swept the floor with a home-made broom. 

“We will have a hot stew ready for father when he comes 
home tonight,” said mother. “Let me see, where is my copper 
kettle?” 

Mother and children looked everywhere but they could not 
find the great shining copper kettle. 

Suddenly mother said, “Now I remember where my copper 
kettle is. I let Granny Tuttle have it when she put up her straw¬ 
berry preserves. How I wish I had it.” 

“Can't we go to granny's and get it for you?” Sally asked. 

“Are you sure that you'll not get lost?” 

“I know the way, mother. Don't you remember that I 
brought home the socks last week that granny knit for Joe?” 

“I think it will be safe for you and Joe to go together, but you 
must promise not to pick flowers or waste time, but go straight to 
granny's cabin and come right home,” mother answered. 

Sally and Joe were delighted to promise, and they were soon 
on their way to Granny Tuttle's for the great copper kettle, 
which they were to carry home between them. 

Now, to get to Granny Tuttle's little cabin the children had 
to go some distance through the woods. The path was so narrow 



that they had to walk in single file between the trees. Children 
unused to forest paths would have lost their way, but Sally had 
been taught to read the marks on trees, and found her way as 
easily as though she had been on a village street. 

Deeper and deeper into the woods Sally went, with little Joe 
following close behind. It grew darker as they went farther, for 
the great trees shut out the sunlight. 

Soon Sally and her brother came to a cleared space where 
they had to cross a stream over a small bridge. But when they 
reached the spot where the bridge should have been, there was 
nothing to be seen. The swiftly moving water could not tell of 
how it had risen during the night and washed away the bridge. 

The children did not know what to do, as they stood, hand 
in hand, looking at the stream. 

“I remember father taking us to a crossing farther down the 
creek, where we crossed on big stones,” said Sally. 

“Maybe we had better go home,” said Joe. 

“Why, Joe, I am surprised at you. What will father have for 
supper if we don’t get the copper kettle from Granny Tuttle’s?” 

Then Joe was ashamed that he had wanted to go home. The 
children followed the path down stream. They went along mer^ 
rily, racing down hill and chasing rabbits, when suddenly the 

















A TRUE STORY 


most unexpected thing happened. The path stopped. Where the 
way had been plain before, now all was brambles and trees, with 
no opening for their little feet. 

“Isn’t it strange, Joe, that the path should stop? Maybe it is 
a little farther on, and we can find it if we can get around this 
thicket.” 

Let s go home,” said Joe once more, and Sally wished that 
she knew how to get there, for it was beginning to dawn upon 
her that she and Joe were lost. They went around the thicket and 
there, instead of the path, was even deeper underbrush. 

Like all pioneers, Sally was brave, and had been trained to 
think quickly. If she could not force her way through the bushes, 
she reasoned she could quickly go back the way she had come. 
This she tried to do, but could not find the path she had danced 
down only a short time before. She ran this way and that, trying 
to find an opening. Holding tight to Joe’s hand, she ran on and 
on, sometimes falling, sometimes being held back by thorns that 
caught her long skirts. 

Joe was now thoroughly frightened and started to cry. Sally 
realized that she was deep in the woods and could not find her 
way out. Stories of Indians and wild animals flashed through her 
mind, although all was quiet in the forest. Brave little heart that 
she was, she gathered her little brother in her arms and tried to 
comfort him. 

“Don’t cry, Joe. Sally will find the path very soon.” So Joe 
wiped away his tears and smiled again. 

It was now past noon and the two sat down on a log to rest. 

“What do you suppose mother is sending to Granny Tut' 
tie?” Sally said, as she glanced at the bundle mother had given her. 

“I am so hungry, do you think we’ll get to granny’s soon?” 
asked Joe. 

“I don’t know; I hope so,” she answered. “Then we can have 
something to eat.” As she spoke she pressed the bundle in her 
lap, and found it soft between her fingers. 

“Oh, Joe, I believe there is something to eat this very minute,” 


LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


and Sally opened the paper and there were seven round dough" 
nuts that mother had sent to granny. 

“Do you suppose mother would mind if we ate one?” asked 
Joe, who was an obedient child. 

“I don’t think she would mind just one,” said Sally as she 
shared a doughnut with Joe. 

The doughnut tasted so good and the children were so hungry 
that soon all were gone. Sally and Joe felt rested and ready to go 
in search of the lost path. Had they but known, they were going 
deeper and deeper into the forest, and farther and farther away 
from the river path. 

Gradually the shadows lengthened, and the children still had 
not found a way out of the tangle of vines and bushes. Falling 
down, resting, then getting up again, only to be scratched and 
torn, it is no wonder that their little feet became tired. Sally, 
the larger and stronger of the two, went ahead, and Joe clung to 
her skirts in an effort to keep up with her. Sally knew that their 
hope of rescue lay in coming to a neighbor’s cabin, or finding a 
road which would lead to one. She knew she must press on be" 
fore night, as it was not safe to stop in the forest after dark, so, 
weary and badly frightened, the brave little girl plunged on. 










A TRUE STORY 


The shadows were now so long that it was hard to tell which 
were trees and which were shadows. Suddenly, Sally saw a great 
black shape. She thought it must be a cow. Her heart beat with 
hope, for surely they had come upon a neighbor’s cabin. 

The great black shadow rose up on its hind legs and Sally 
knew that it was not a cow, but a black bear. 

“Quick, brother, hide. Oh, where can we hide?” and Sally 
wrung her hands. 

Nearby was a great log. Creeping silently toward it, the chil¬ 
dren got farther and farther away from the great silent bear, 
which had not seen them as yet. 

Little Sally suddenly felt very brave and fearless. Working 
her way to the end of the log, she thrust her hand in and found 
it hollow. What a hiding place, she thought, and whispered: 

“Crawl in this log, Joe, and be as quiet as you can.” 

For the first time Joe saw the bear, who was now coming 
towards them with his slow, clumsy gait. He scrambled into the 
great hollow log, and Sally was not far behind him. 

With beating hearts, and holding their breath, they won¬ 
dered what the bear was going to do. Soon the light was dimmed 
at one end of the log, and they could hear the bear sniffing, as 
bears do, to find out what was hidden in the hollow log. 

The great black bear having just finished a hearty meal of 
rabbit meat, was not hungry. Alter waiting awhile in vain to see 
if his little captives were coming out of the dark hole, he rose on 
his hind legs, and the children heard him crashing through the 
underbrush as he went away. 

Gradually Sally backed out of the log and pulled out Joe ; 
How good it was to breathe the fresh air again. She kissed her 
little brother as she wiped off bits of decayed wood and moss. 

“The bear has gone, Joe. Sally will take you home soon.” Of 
course she did not know how soon this was to be, but bravely 
cheered the little fellow who was little more than a baby. 

The way became smoother, and finally Sally knew that she 
had at last found a beaten path, after many hours of aimless wan- 



dering. Sally was very near tears, 
for she knew that when darkness 
settled over the earth the forest 
would be a dangerous place, with 
so many wild things prowling 
about. 

“What is that noise? Oh, Joey, 
I believe it’s a rooster. Listen; yes, 
it is. We must be near a cabin. 1 ’ 

The children listened again, and 
a shrill sound rose on the evening 
stillness. It was the crowing of a 
rooster. They stumbled forward in 
the direction of the sound. 

A tall form appeared among the 
trees and Sally and Joe were cling' 
ing to their good Neighbor Greene 
who had set out to find a lost pig. 
Catching up Joe in his arms, and 
half carrying Sally, they presently 
came to the cleared space before his 
cabin. 

Here all was excitement, lighted 
torches, and groups of people, 
armed and ready to start on an alb 
night searching party. 

When Mr. Dutcher had returned 
from the settlement, his wife had 
told him that the children had not 
returned from Granny Tuttle’s, 
whither she had sent them for the 
great copper kettle. 

“You should not have sent them, 
Polly,” said her husband, “didn’t 
you know that the bridge had been 
washed away?” 










“No, no, I did not know. Oh, 
where are my children?' 1 And 
mother burst into tears. 

“This is no time for tears, 
mother. We must act, and act at 
once. Get baby ready as quickly as 
you can, and I will take you to 
Neighbor Fuller's for the night. 
Then I will go to Neighbor 
Greene's and we will search until 
we find our little ones." 

Mother packed food hurriedly 
for father to take with him, while 
father prepared pine knot torches 
to carry on the night search. In a 
short time they were on their way 
to Mr. Fuller's cabin, a distance of 
a few miles. 

Here Mr. Fuller and his two sons 
snatched guns, food and torches, 
and set out for Neighbor Greene's 
cabin. They expected to spend all 
night hunting for the little ones. 
So, you see, that is how it happened 
that there was a crowd of neigh' 
bors and settlers in Mr. Greene's 
dooryard when he appeared with 
Joe in his arms, asleep, and leading 
little Sally by the hand. 

The children were soon in their 
father’s arms, and the kind hearted 
son of Neighbor Greene left for 
Mr. Fuller's cabin where the chib 
dren's mother was waiting anxious' 
ly, to tell her that her two little 
ones were safe. 








LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


Mrs. Greene took the children into her cabin and put them 
to bed. Before Sally was awake in the morning her mother and 
baby John and father were at Mr. Greene’s door to take the chib 
dren home. It was a happy reunion and, after a while, Sally was 
able to tell the story of losing her way and how she and Joe had 
hidden in a great hollow log from a black bear. Then how, after 
stumbling through the darkness, they had heard a rooster crow, 
which had guided them into Mr. Greene’s arms, and restored 
them to safety. 

After the children had had a hasty breakfast, they were eager 
to return to their own little home. So Molly, the white mare, 
was saddled, and Mrs. Dutcher mounted, with the baby in her 
arms. Joe was seated before his mother, and held on to Molly’s 
mane. Little Sally was perched on behind, where she clung to 
her mother’s dress. Father, who was on foot, walked ahead of 
Molly. 

As the little procession moved along, Joe said: 

“When we get home we will play hiding from the bear, 
Sally. You can be the bear if you want to.” 

“All right, Joe, but where will you hide?” Sally answered. 

“Maybe father can find a hollow log, so we can play it lots 
of times.” 

As they went along the beautiful wood path a startled deer 
showed its face through the brush. Again, a squirrel would scam" 
per across the path and disappear from sight. The nesting birds 
flew busily about their business of homeTuilding and all Nature 
seemed bursting into bloom, joyous to escape from the long, cold 
winter. 

Father, who could imitate the calls of many of the birds and 
animals, amused the children as they went along. Many of the 
birds answered his whistles and calls, much to the delight of Joe, 
who said: 

“Do it again, please, father. See, that big bird is following us.” 

Finally the chimney of their own cabin was seen through the 
trees, and the children exclaimed: 


A TRUE STORY 


“Isn’t it lovely to be home again! It seems like a whole year 
since we started out for Granny Tuttle’s to get the copper kettle.” 

“Yes, it is good to be home again. It has been a long twenty- 
four hours since you left mother to go on your errand. We have 
to be thankful that you were kept unharmed, and returned to 
your mother and father.” 

Father helped the children and his wife to dismount. When 
they opened the door of the cabin they found all as it had been 
left the night before. In those early days, it was not unusual to 
find upon one’s return home that the Indians had broken in and 
stolen food or whatever they wished to take with them. 

There stood the great golden loaves of bread which mother 
had baked only yesterday. The hearth was neatly swept, and piles 
of wood lay ready for a fire. The sunshine struck the few pewter 
plates on the dresser, which mother had brought from her home 
in New England when she had left her home as a bride a few 
years before to make a new home in what was then called the 
west, with her husband. 

“Sally, I wish you would polish my pewter plates, they are a 
little dull.” 

“Yes, mother,” answer Sally. 

Life settled back into its routine just the same as though the 
little children had not been lost, and their parents torn with 
anxiety. Each member of the family went about his tasks as 
though there had not been excitement the day before. Sally 
helped her mother and ran endless errands. Joe, who was smaller, 
followed his sister about, as though he could not bear to be out of 
her sight. 

“Aren’t you ever going to play with me?” he asked. 

“Why, of course, Joey,” she answered. “You know how 
mother depends on me to set the table, and help her get dinner 
onto the table. As soon as we can, we will go down to the spring, 
and there I am sure we can find a hollow log, so we can play we 
are hiding from the bear.” 

True to her word, Sally and Joe went to the spring and there 


LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


they found a great hollow log, even bigger than the one in which 
they had hidden only the day before. The children never tired of 
playing this game, in fact, so far from other children and having 
almost no toys, they had to make their own games from the only 
thing that they knew—frontier life. 

At the close of the busy day, there was a space when mother 
was hushing the baby to sleep, before Sally and Joe were sent to 
their beds. The children were speaking in quiet tones. 

"When I get to be a man, I am going out and find that great 
black bear that scared us so, Sally.” 

"No, you won’t Joe. I am sure you could never find him. 
Don’t you know that all bears look alike?” 

"Then I will shoot all the black bears I can find so that I kill 
the right one.” 

When mother and Sally were alone, Mrs. Dutcher said: 

"Mother is so proud of her brave little girl who took care of 
little brother, and kept going on and on.” 

"Oh, mother, that was nothing. I am so sorry that we did not 
get the copper kettle, and that we ate up all the doughnuts that 
you sent to Granny Tuttle.” 







Little Sally Dutcher 

PART TWO 



ITTLE Joe Dutcher was seated on the doorstep of his 
father’s log cabin. He was shelling popcorn into a 
great hollow gourd that served as a dish. Suddenly, 
without a sound to warn him of the approach of a per' 
son, a shadow fell over his work. Looking up, in sudden fear, he 
saw the stolid face of an old Indian woman above him. 

"Good morning, Oweenee,” Joe said in relief. 

"Ugh,” said she, which might mean "good morning.” 

"Come in, Oweenee, mother will be glad to see you.” 

The little Dutcher children loved to have the old squaw come 
to the cabin. They knew that after she had talked to their mother, 
and traded the dyes which she carried in her basket for a string of 
glass beads, old Oweenee would notice them. 

"Oweenee, tell us a story,” Joe asked. 


















LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


“Yes, please do,” Sally added pleadingly, coming up to the old 
squaw on the other side. 

“What do the white children want to hear about today?” 
asked Oweenee, as she seated herself on a bench. 

Sally and Joe sat at her feet, where they could look up into 
her wrinkled old face. 

“The one about the great white bear,” said Joe. 

“Oh, Joe, please let me choose this time,” said Sally. 

“No,” said Oweenee. “I shall tell you a new story today. You 
are growing fast, and you soon will be big and strong girl and boy. 
Today I shall tell you of a mighty hunter named Glooskap.” 

“Oh, goody,” said Joe, as he settled himself more comfortably. 

Sally had been hoping that Oweenee would tell the story of a 
beautiful Indian princess, but this was to be a new story. 

In the early days of our country the little children did not 
have picture books such as we have today. Books were scarce, 
and while father had a huge Bible on the shelf where he kept his 
most valuable things, this and a primer comprised the usual library 
of the border family. It is no wonder that the children gathered 
around the old Indian squaw to hear her stories, for she was the 
only story book they knew. It is true they loved to have mother 
tell them stories of her girlhood in the little New England viL 
lage, which she often did. 

The old squaw paused so long that the children wondered if 
she were going to tell them a story. Then she passed her hand 
over her eyes, as if trying to remember something that had hap' 
pened a long time ago. 

In a soft, dreamy voice, as though she were thinking out loud, 
she began: 

“Once, many moons ago, long, long before Oweenee was 
born, there was a mighty hunter named Glooskap.” 

“Oweenee, is this a true story?” asked Joe. 

“It is as my great grandmother told me,” answered Oweenee 
with dignity. 

“Sh, Joe, don’t interrupt Oweenee. Please go on,” said Sally. 


* 




























LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


“Glooskap was a friend of all the Indians. He did not live 
with any tribe. He lived by himself in the deep forest, where he 
hunted and fished. When any people were in deep trouble, they 
came many miles to his lonely tepee and prayed that the mighty 
Glooskap might help. Nor were their prayers in vain, for he was 
never so happy as when he was aiding the weak or unhappy . 11 

“Was Glooskap a fairy or a giant ? 11 asked Joe. 

“Well, no , 11 said Oweenee. “But he had a wonderful power 
given him by the Great Spirit. When he wanted to hide from his 
enemies, he could change himself into a duck. That is why he was 
called Glooskap, which means 'diver . 111 

“Oh, dear, what if he had been shot when he was a duck , 11 
said Joe. 

“Sh, Joey , 11 said his sister. 

“Then when he wanted to, Glooskap could make himself into 
a giant. The story I shall tell you about is how he made himself 
into a mighty giant. 

“Once there was a mighty tribe of Indians living on the 
plains. They had many tall braves, and many beautiful girls, many 
wise old warriors and little children and squaws. This tribe was 
very rich and happy, for did they not have plenty of fresh game 
to eat and corn meal which they had raised? Then, too, a clear 
stream of water flowed through the center of the village where 
the women came to get water.- 

“One day, one of the squaws noticed that the water was not 
as high as usual, so she said: 

“ 'Look, mighty chief. Is the stream not lower than it was 
yesterday ? 1 

“ 'No, foolish one , 1 said the chief. 

“The next day when the squaws came again to draw water, 
it was lower than it had been the day before. 

“ 'Pray, look at the water, mighty chief. Is it not lower than 
yesterday ? 1 they asked. 

“ 'Ugh, it is so , 1 said the chief. 'Our stream is getting smaller 
and smaller . 1 



"The chief called a council of all the old warriors. They 
looked at the stream which was getting shallower and shallower 
before their very eyes. 

"The squaws did not have enough water to carry to their 
tepees. Soon the children were crying for a drink. The stream 
became so small it could hardly be seen, and none might draw any 
water without the chief's consent. 

" 'Sound the kettle drum. Call the young braves,' said the 
chief. 

"The young men hurried from far and near. They seated 
themselves around their chief on the ground, for this was what 
was called a council. The great chief stood in the center. When 
there was complete silence, he said: 

" 'Young braves, we have held a council of the wise old braves 
to decide why the water has gotten so low. This has done no good. 
Each day the water has gotten lower and lower, and soon I fear 
my people shall die.’ 

" 'It is to the young braves I now make my appeal. Who will 
go, maybe at the cost of his life, and discover why the stream 
has stopped?' 

"A young and fearless warrior rose up. 





LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


" 'Oh, great chief, let me, the least of your braves, go and find 
out why the stream is drying up. If I can help my people I will 
gladly die, if need be/ 

" 'Well spoken, young man , 1 replied the chief. 

"So it was decided that at sunset the young warrior should 
leave on his venture into the far country. Solemnly the old hunt' 
ers filled his quiver with arrows, new and sharp. The squaws gave 
him a packet of dried meat for food. The young maidens looked at 
him with bright eyes, for was it not possible that they might 
never see him again? 

"The great chief approached the young brave and hung a 
chain of mighty claws around his neck, a token of good luck. 

" 'I wish I were old enough to go/ whispered a small lad. 'I 
can run many miles, but they will not let me go/ 

“Finally the young brave was ready, and as the sun sank be' 
hind the hills, and the evening mist arose, he went out silently into 
the twilight. 

"All that night he traveled on foot through the forest. When 
dawn came, he ate some of the dried deer meat the squaws had 
given him, and drank deeply from a spring. 

"All the morning he traveled westward along the bank of the 
stream. At noon he stopped and again ate some dried deer meat 
and drank from the stream. Then he slept beneath the shadow of 
a great oak tree. Enemies were on every hand, both wild animals 
and hostile Indians, but the young brave slept so lightly that the 
crackle of a twig would have awakened him. 

"When the heat of the day was over, and he was refreshed, 
Ioscoda, for that was the young brave’s name, started up and was 
on his way again to a far, far country, unknown to him. 

"Three long days and nights Ioscoda traveled to the west' 
ward, for that was the general direction of the stream. Finally, 
he beheld a dam in the river, which held up the current and made 
a huge pond above the dam. 

" 'So this is the reason my people have been dying of thirst/ 
Ioscoda said as he sank down by the stream. He had been with' 


A TRUE STORY 


out water for many hours and he dipped his hands in the stream 
and drank thirstily. 

“As Ioscoda rested beside the dam, he saw a boy coming 
towards him. The boy was ugly, with great bulging eyes, and a 
wide slash for a mouth. 

“ 'Where is your chief?' Ioscoda asked. 

“ 'In the tepee,' was the reply. 

''Ioscoda entered the tepee and saw a strange sight. The chief 
was a giant with huge, bulging eyes and a horrible mouth. 

•“ 'Great chief, I come from the plains to find out why the 
water has stopped in my village. The people are suffering and 
dying there for water,' said Ioscoda. 

“ 'I am pleased to hear of the suffering,' said the giant. 

" 'You must cut the dam. I am sent by my people to see that 
you do,' said Ioscoda. 

“He sat down and waited. The giant thought that he would 
get tired and go home, but Ioscoda sat on and on. He did not at' 
tempt to fight the giant, nor did he run away. The giant could 
not understand why Ioscoda did not move. 

“After several days the giant said, 'I will help your people.' 

“He took an arrow and shot a hole in the dam so that a tiny 
stream of water poured out. 

“Then Ioscoda returned to his tribe and found the people re^ 
joicing at the small stream which flowed through the village. 

“Alas, after a few days, the small supply of water stopped 
again, and the Indians were as badly off as before. 

“Again the mighty chief called a council together. After a 
time spoke one of the mighty warriors: 

“ 'We are powerless to fight the giant that guards our water 
supply. Our people are dying and we must do something. At 
nightfall I will go to Olooskap's tepee and beg him to help us.' 

“So it was deck i that the mighty hunter was to go to Gloos' 
kap's tepee and ask urn to force the giant to give back the water 
supply. 



LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


"Glooskap, the mighty warrior and hunter, heard what the 
brave had to say, and when he had finished, said: 

" 'Return to your chief and tell him that Glooskap is a friend 
of his people. I will go to the giant and save your people from 
death/ 

"Then Glooskap made himself into a giant as tall as a mighty 
pine tree. He painted his body and face red as for war. He 
painted great green rings around his eyes. He hung a string of 
clam shells from his ears, and another around his neck. On his 
head he placed a war bonnet which had streamers made of one 
hundred red and black feathers. He carried only his hunting 
knife and bow and arrows for protection. He was a mighty sight 
to behold, one to make even the boldest afraid. 

"Just as Ioscoda had traveled westward, Glooskap made his 
way until he came to the dam. He sat down and waited until the 
same ugly lad with the bulging eyes came to him and he said: 

" 'Lad, get me a drink/ 

"The boy went away, and soon came back with some muddy 
water in a gourd. 

" 'That is not fit to drink/ roared Glooskap. 

" 'It is all there is/ said the lad. 

" 'Take me to your chief/ Glooskap demanded. 

"When Glooskap saw the giant, he walked up to him with' 
out any fear, and said, in an awful voice: 

" 'I warn you to cut the dam and let the people on the plains 
have water again/ 

" 'Who are you, to warn me?’ said the chief. 

"You may think that Glooskap did a brave thing to defy the 









A TRUE STORY 


giant. He knew that he could not be hurt, because he could 
change himself into almost any animal and escape. 

" 'I am one who does not fear you , 1 was the reply. 

" 'I refuse to cut down the dam , 1 shouted the chief. 

" 'Then protect yourself , 1 roared Glooskap, as he fell upon 
the giant. 

"With a mighty slash of his hunting knife, Glooskap cut the 
giant across the knees. Great streams of water poured out, and 
Glooskap had to spring aside as the river flowed out of the giant. 
Rising high in the air, Glooskap seized the giant by the back and 
crumpled him up, and, if you will believe it, all that was left was 
a bullfrog. To this day you will find bullfrogs have wrinkles on 
their backs where Glooskap crumbled one. 

"Glooskap returned to the plains expecting to find the people 
happy because they had water to drink again. To his surprise, he 
found the people had gone from the village. 

"They had wanted water so badly they could not think of 
anything else. One wanted to be a crab and live on both land and 
water. One wanted to be a fish so that he could live in water all 
the time. Another wanted to be a leech so he could live in the 
mud. 

"When the water rushed between the river banks once more 
each mortal had his wish and became a crab, a fish or a leech. That 
is why the people of the village were gone when Glooskap re¬ 
turned. His work was done, so he went back to his lonely tepee 
to hunt and fish and wait until he was called upon again to help 
mortals . 11 

As Oweenee finished, Joe asked: 

"Were the crabs and fishes and leeches once Indians ? 11 

"Yes , 11 she answered. 

"Will they ever turn back into Indians ? 11 

"No, child. Once the mighty Glooskap had changed a mortal 
into an animal, they could not become mortals again . 11 

"Oh, Joe, isn’t that a lovely story? Oweenee, please tell us 
the story of the beautiful princess , 11 said Sally. 



"Oweenee will come again,” she said. 

True to her word, when the old squaw next visited the cabin 
she told the children the story that little Sally loved, the story of 
the princess and the evening star. In after years Sally told this 
story to her own little ones. This is the tale Oweenee told: 

"In the land of long ago there were seven beautiful Indian 
maidens. These were the daughters of a mighty chief. Many 
brave warriors came to win the beautiful maidens, and finally all 
were married except the youngest princess. She was sweet and 
pretty, and had many suitors, but none could please her. 

"Finally her father called her to him and said, kindly: 

" Tittle daughter, why do you not accept one of the hand" 
some braves as a husband? All of your sisters are married.' 

"Then the princess said: l Oh, father, can't you see that these 
young men are selfish and unkind, although they smile and speak 
soft words? My husband must be gentle and good, and none of 
these young men are that.' 

"One day a stranger came to the village. He was crippled 
and ugly to look at, and everyone laughed at him but the princess. 
She was always sweet and kind to him. 





A TRUE STORY 


“One day the princess told her sisters that she had decided to 
marry the crippled stranger. 

“ 'You must be crazy, sister. Can’t you see that he is ugly ? 1 
they said. 

“ 'To me he seems beautiful and good , 1 was the reply. 

''No one could persuade the princess not to marry the stram 
ger. A feast was spread, as was the custom when a princess was 
married. 

''As the sisters walked through the forest with their husbands 
they laughed behind their hands and said cruel things about the 
man their sister was to marry. Soon they came to a great hollow 
log, and all jumped over it but the poor cripple. It seemed he 
was too weak to climb over, and the princess waited patiently 
for him. 

“Instead of going over, the cripple jumped into the log. As 
he came out of the opposite end of the log, they could not believe 
that he was the same man. Here was a beautiful youth, straight 
and strong as an ash tree. He had been under an evil spirit that 
had made him bent and old. When he passed through the log the 
evil spirit had vanished, leaving him young and handsome. 

“The sisters could hardly believe their eyes. But as they 
looked their sister became bent and wrinkled, for the evil spirit 
had fallen upon her instead. 

“When the wedding party was seated at the feast, a mighty 
storm blew up. It took the tepee from its base, and carried all the 
wedding guests up to heaven, for the bent and crippled man was 
none other than the son of the King of the Evening Star. They 
were all carried back to his father’s kingdom of the Evening Star. 

“All the sisters and their husbands, and the guests at the wed' 
ding were changed into birds. They strutted and chattered to 
their heart’s content, just as they had as people. They were happy 
as long as they had beautiful feathers to show each other, and 
could talk all day long. 

“Soon the King of the Evening Star came to welcome his son 
and his bride with outstretched arms. Instantly the princess be' 


LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


came young and beautiful again as she had been on earth. Because 
she had been kind to the bent and crippled man, she had become 
a princess in the land of the Evening Star, and her husband was 
a prince. They added to the light that shone upon mortals on the 
earth, so that they said: 

“ 'See how brightly the Evening Star is shining tonight. It is 
because the prince and his princess are living there and because 
they are so happy, they are sending out their beams to mortals 
down below to bless them and guide them on earth.’ ” 













Little Sally Dutcher 


PART THREE 



|REAKFAST was over in the Dutcher household and the 
family just rising from the table. 

“Sally," said Joe, “let's go down to the spring and 
sail our boats this morning." 

“This is the day that I have planned to teach Sally to spin," 
said mother. “She is getting to be such a tall, strong girl, that it 
is time for her to learn how to do a woman's work." 

Although Sally was still a small girl, like all settlement chib 
dren, she was taught to do a woman's tasks. So, when her mother 
said that she was going to teach her to spin, Sally's heart beat with 
pride. Spinning was one of the most important things a woman 
had to do for it was one of her duties to make the stuff used for 
clothing, as well as to weave all household linen. 













LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


“Sally, you may clear away the breakfast things, while mother 
takes care of baby brother,” said Mrs. Dutcher. 

Sally flew about her tasks with a light heart and a gay song. 
Soon she had finished and was waiting for mother to begin the 
lesson. 

Mother pulled the spinning wheel out of its corner into a 
better light, and seated herself at the wheel. 

Sally had often watched mother spin, but never until today 
had she said that Sally might learn to spin, too. Slowly, mother 
started the great wheel and moved the foot treadle. The wheel 
turned, and the fine linen thread wound onto the bobbin. 

Mother put her fingers into a bowl of water, and taking up 
a small quantity of flax, carefully shaped and formed it into a long 
thread which was wound slowly and carefully around the great 
wheel. 

“Here, Sally, take mother’s place. Work carefully and do not 
hurry. I will work the tread.” 

Slowly the great wheel turned again, and the little fingers 
tried to form a thread. The hands were small and hurried. It was 
a knotty and clumsy thread that wound off, but it was a proud 
moment, too, when Sally saw her first few inches of thread. 

“That is splendid, little daughter. Mother is proud of your 
first efforts. We will cut off your thread and always keep it as a 
sample of your first attempt. Then, we can see how you improve 
as you get older. Some day your thread will be as smooth and 
strong as mine.” 

“Mother, may I try again tomorrow?” asked Sally. 

“Yes, I think so,” she answered. “You have worked enough 
for today. Suppose you take the pail and go to the spring for 
water. Joe may go with you, and you need not hurry.” 

“Come, Joe, mother wants us to go to the spring, and maybe 
we can sail our little boats awhile. She said we did not have to 
hurry,” said Sally. 

The children were soon on their way, swinging the pail be' 
tween them, and their hands full of little boats made of chips of 


A TRUE STORY 


wood. These were crude little affairs, which father had made 
with his knife. The largest one they called the “Mayflower,” 
for that was a name which was dear to the early colonists and 
settlers in our country. It was a fireside story of how Sally’s 
great-great-grandmother had come across the ocean and had en- 
dured hunger and cold, and defied hostile Indians. She had been 
one of the early settlers to come from England to settle in the 
Massachusetts colony. 

The sunlight danced through the trees, and touched Sally’s 
bright hair, as she bent over the spring. After awhile she said: 

“I think we had better go home, Joe, because mother is going 
to bake and I want to help her.” 

Joe looked up with a smile. 

“Sally, do you think mother will make cookies today?” 

“I don’t know. Let’s hurry back and see.” 

Filling the water pail, Sally and Joe started for home. 

When they arrived at the cabin, mother was rolling out 
dough. She looked up with a smile and said: 

“I have a treat for my little folks today. Each of you may 
make a cake in any shape you wish, and bake it with the rest.” 

“I want to make a tomahawk,” said Joe. 

“I think I will make a sampler and mark in the stitches with 
a fork,” said Sally. 

Soon the little cakes were baking in the brick oven where 
mother baked the great loaves of bread for the family. Sally was 
delighted with her sampler, made of dough, but alas, Joe’s toma¬ 
hawk looked very much like a hammer. 

“That is too bad, Joe,” said his mother. “Next time you may 
cut out a flag. I think you will like it better than a tomahawk.” 

“Come, Sally child, you have played enough for one day. I 
want you to learn to sew. You are almost seven years old, and 
it is high time your sampler were done. When your grandmother 
was four years old she made a sampler that is on exhibit today, in 
dear old Boston, as one of the most perfect pieces of handiwork 
done by the early colonists.” 


LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


"Mother, please, may I learn to bake instead of sew. It is 
so hard to put my stitches straight, and my hands get so tired." 

"No, little daughter, that is all the more reason why you 
should learn to sew. No pioneer can live very long without know' 
ing how to sew both a fine seam as well as homespun clothes for 
all the family. When you are older, I will teach you how to make 
a deerskin doublet and moccasins as the Indians have taught us. 
As you are a little girl, you must finish your sampler first." 

Obediently Sally seated herself on the low settle, made of split 
log which had been smoothed on top, and mounted on four short 
legs. With a last look at the sunshine and the great outdoors, 
Sally picked up her work with a sigh. Joe, who was her constant 
companion, seated himself on the floor at her feet. Mother gave 
him the task of picking dried berries from their stems, and placing 
them in a hollow gourd which served as a deep dish. 

"When I get to be a man I will take care of you like father 
does of mother," said Joe. 

"And I will make you beautiful clothes, Joey, and we will 
have a beautiful cabin like this to live in," said his sister. 

The children saw their father approaching, with something 
in his arms. Could it be a little animal? 

"What is that, father? Isn’t it pretty?" 

"This is a doe whose mother was killed by a tree falling on 
her. I knew this little one would be eaten by wild animals or 
starve in the forest, so I brought it home to see what mother 
could do for her." 

The little doe was weak and could hardly stand on its long, 
slender legs. Father made a bed of straw in the outside shack, 
and mother fed it milk and bread. The children delighted to stroke 
its soft nose. 

With the passing weeks, "Pet"— that was the name they had 
given the little thing—grew strong and well. It loved the Dutcher 
children, and followed them about like a dog. It was necessary to 
keep the pretty creature tied when the children were not watch' 
ing, although it seemed quite happy in its foster home. 







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LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


One bright day, Sally said: 

“Let us play a new game, Joe. Pet can be our queen and we 
will crown her.” 

“I don’t want a queen. Father says this is a free country, and 
he doesn’t ever want a queen again and neither do I.” 

“Oh, but Joe, this is different. Can’t we play that she is 
President Washington, and we are crowning him?” 

“I don’t know whether Washington wears a crown, but I will 
ask father.” 

Father was not to be found, so the children made a wreath of 
wild flowers, and hung it around Pet’s neck. She looked at the 
children with her great dark eyes, and seemed to enjoy the fun. 
In their cabin, so far from other children and having almost no 
toys at all except those father could carve with his knife, the pet 
doe was dearly loved by Sally and Joe. She was their constant 
companion for about two months when, one morning, the rope 
that held her was found to be broken, and she had gone back to 
the forest that was her real home. 

“I wonder if Pet will ever come back,” asked Sally. She felt 
sorry to lose her companion, and so did Joe. The children wan' 
dered about in the woods, calling her, but they had to return 
home without Pet. 

Here a surprise awaited them. Neighbors were few and far 
between. When they saw Neighbor Greene’s horse before the 
door they hurried on with eager steps. 

“Good morning, little folks,” said a hearty voice. There stood 
Neighbor Greene with a letter in his hand. Father had returned 
from the fields, and he and mother had been talking to Mr. 
Greene when the children came up. 

“Do you think the children ought to know?” mother asked 
in a low voice. 

“Yes, I do. They are brave little ones, and we must all do our 
part,” father answered. 

“You tell them, father.” 

“No, let Mr. Greene tell them.” 



“Now, little folks, where can I find two strong, brave little 
pioneers?” asked Mr. Greene. 

Up went two little hands without a moment’s hesitation. 

“That is fine. We will need all the little hands we have if what 
this letter says comes true,” and he showed the children the let' 
ter. Bending down to the little ones, he went on: 

“General Putnam has sent us a warning of an Indian uprising. 
We must get food and water into the house and it will take all 
the big and little hands to get us ready before they come.” 

After a few words, Neighbor Greene was on his way to 
warn the next settler. Border life was dangerous, but the hardy 
pioneer was so accustomed to danger that he met it with a quiet 
dignity. Mr. Dutcher said to Sally and Joe: 

“Bring in plenty of wood, children, and pile it up before the 
fireplace.” 

This the children did quickly and quietly. When they had 
finished there was enough to last for three or four days. Father 
brought in potatoes, corn meal and vegetables. Taking up a few 
logs in the puncheon floor, he hid them away from sight. 

Preparations were soon completed, and as night dropped 
down her thick, cool blanket among the trees, the Dutcher family 
were safely housed, and ready to withstand a possible Indian 
attack. 




LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


In the cabin, by the light of yellow pine knots, father was 
carefully cleaning his great gun, and mother was melting lead 
into the bullet molds. The children were eating supper, and 
talking in hushed tones. 

“Do you suppose the Indians will come tonight, Sally?" 

“Dear, I hope not," answered Sally. Then, to her mother: 
“May I stay up all night?" 

“No, you children must go to bed," father answered. 

Joe started to protest, but Sally knew that when father spoke 
it was best to obey. So she took her little brother by the hand, 
and led him towards the ladder they had to climb to reach their 
loft bedroom. 

Mother followed her children upstairs, and heard their siim 
pie prayers before she tucked each one in its little bed. 

“Go to sleep, my little ones. Your heavenly Father will keep 
you in safety," she said as she kissed them good night. 

The children tried to stay awake as long as they heard the low 
voices of their parents in the room below, but finally they slept to 
dream of Indians, large and small. 

“I don't think they will attack us tonight, Polly," father said. 
“It is past the full of the moon, and I would not be surprised if 
they did not bother us for several days. Get your rest, and I will 
watch through the night." 

“Call me at midnight, father," was the reply as she turned 
to go. 

There was a loophole in the cabin, where the shotgun could 
spit out its angry message without the gunner being seen or hurt. 
There was also a peephole where another member of the family 
could watch the ,enemy and report where to fire. Long before 
dark father had filled in the window openings with logs, so that 
no one could tell where they had been. 

Hour after hour the brave pioneer kept guard, with shotgun 
ready and eye trained on the clearing in the woods through which 
the Indians would be likely to come. 

As midnight approached, mother came to her husband and 


A TRUE STORY 


begged him to take some food, and allow her to keep watch. 

"The moon is rising higher, and it is almost as light as day. 
I do not think they will come before daybreak,” said father. 

"Then come and get a few hours' rest,” said his wife. 

Reluctantly, father yielded his place. 

With the first light of day, he bounded to the peephole, to find 
mother still at her post. 

"Why didn't you sleep, mother?” he asked. "I would not 
have slept if I had known you were not resting.” 

"I shall be very glad to do so now,” mother said. 

As the day wore on, and nothing was to be seen of the Im 
dians, it seemed that they would be spared an attack. The heavy 
front door was swung open, and the children were allowed to play 
on the doorstep. Father was cultivating corn in the cleared space 
near the cabin, and mother went about her duties with a lighter 
heart. 

The children were amusing themselves by playing, Joe was an 
Indian, and Sally was Mrs. Dutcher, who was being pursued. 

As Joe approached his sister with upraised arm, Sally pre^ 
tended to fall at his feet. 

"Please spare me, Mr. Indian. Let me go back to my children.” 

"No, never,” Joe replied. 

"Can't you children find something better to play?” mother 
asked, coming to the door. Suddenly, "Here comes father now. 
Into the house, quickly!” 

With long strides father gained the door and swung it shut. 
He put an iron bar in its place to keep the door from being 
beaten down. Turning to his family, he said: 

"I saw a number of Indians coming through the woods. They 
will be here soon. Are we all ready?” 

"Yes, father,” said mother in her quiet voice. 

Maybe a girl or boy of today would cry and be afraid. A pio- 
neer was ashamed to be afraid. From his earliest days he had 
known Indian attacks, yet, like other hardships which he had to 
endure, he lived through them without complaint. 


LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


Sally and Joe quietly stood by their parents, ready to obey 
their commands. The baby began to cry, and Sally took him into 
her arms to quiet him. 

"It is strange that they do not come,” said father. 

"It is unusual that they choose broad daylight,” mother said. 

After an hour's waiting, mother cried: 

"Look, father, here they come; but what are they doing?” 

Well might she ask. Instead of coming stealthily forward or 
running to the cabin with their horrible yells, the Indians were 
pushing and pulling one another in boisterous fashion. They did 
not have the red war paint on their bodies, as they would if they 
had come to fight and rob the white man's family. 

"What can be the meaning of it?” asked father after watching 
their antics for awhile, for indeed they were playing like children. 

Finally, the leader turned and came directly to the door of 
the cabin. He knocked loudly. 

"It may be a trick to get in,” said mother. "Don't open the 
door.” 

After pounding in vain for a few moments, the leader went 
back to the group of Indians. They talked together, pointing to' 
wards the cabin. 

After awhile they went away without firing one shot. Sally 
and little Joe breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Dutcher was too cau' 
tious to open the front door, but he relaxed his vigil and took 
some food. 

About an hour later back came the Indians with about a dozen 
more, making a band of twenty or over. Then the children were 
frightened, fearing that a volley of shots might be fired upon 
the cabin. 

Soon the leader approached the door for the second time, 
with a white flag in one hand, and a pipe of peace in the other. 

"Surely, they are friendly, father. Who ever heard of Indians 
turning upon even a foe after they had offered the peace pipe?” 

"I do not trust them,” said father. "Don't you remember 
General Putnam's warning that they have been preparing for a 


A TRUE STORY 


fall raid these many weeks. If they are friendly they will go 
away. If not, they will attack us tonight. 1 ' 

Mother had put the fire out in the fireplace so that there was 
no smoke from the chimney to betray that there was anyone at 
home. The Indians might well have thought that the family was 
at the settlement, so quiet was the little cabin. 

Once more the Indians left the cabin. As the last one disap' 
peared, mother said, "Thank God," and fell upon her knees. 

As night deepened, father resumed the post of sentinel, still 
expecting an attack, although the Indians had not fired a single 
shot. Finally the great white moon rose over the tree tops with 
all the majesty of the grand old lady she has always been. 

Looking intently, father thought he saw a figure moving 
through the brush towards the shed in which were housed the 
few head of stock owned by the Dutcher family. 

The children had gone to bed and mother sat by father's side 
as he kept watch. 

"Do you see a figure out there in the brush, mother?" 

"Yes. What is he going to do, set fire to our shed?" 

"I will take a shot at him even at this range, if that is the 
case," was the answer. 












LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


"That is firing the first shot, father. If they are on the war' 
path, why don't they fire upon us?” 

"That is what I do not understand, little woman. We can only 
wait and hope for the best.” 

Meanwhile, sounds from the chickens were heard as though 
they had been frightened in their sleep. 

"They are stealing our stock,” said mother. "If they will take 
our hens only and not molest us, I will be glad.” 

Soon the clearing was alive with Indians. They danced back 
and forth. They circled round and round the cabin, giving queer 
yells. Strange to say, they did not carry tomahawks and knives, 
as though preparing for an attack. They seemed to be enjoying 
themselves playing in the moonlight. As she looked down, the 
old moon must have had strange thoughts. 

One playful Indian stumbled into the pit where father had 
buried some wild hog meat for safety. Shrieking, the others 
pounced upon him, and all started to dig with their hands or 
sticks. Soon the sides of hogs were uncovered. They formed in a 
single line and marched off, the leader carrying Sally's pet chick' 
ens, and each Indian proudly carrying the side of a hog. 

"I think they are hungry rather than cruel,” said Mr. 
Dutcher. "Anyway, they are gone, and I am thankful. I do not 
think they will be back. I did not tell you, mother, but my pow' 
der would not explode. I could not have fired a half doz,en shots.” 

Mounting the ladder to the loft where Sally and Joe slept, 
mother tenderly kissed the two small faces as they slumbered, un' 
conscious of the happenings of the night. 

With the dawning of a new day father opened the great door 
again. How peaceful the world seemed after the anxiety of the 
past two days. The shining lake was glimpsed through the trees, 
the sunlight and shadow spotted the carpet of moss and pine 
needles. 

"Oh, Joe, isn't it lovely to be out again?” said Sally between 
deep breaths. 

"I'll race you to the spring,” said Joe. 


A TRUE STORY 

“You children must not go far from the house today," mother 
cautioned. 

When Sally discovered that her pets had been stolen by the 
Indians, she cried bitterly. 

“Don't cry, child." said her mother. “Aren't you glad that 
they took your chickens instead of little brother? Sometimes, 
they steal little children and make them prisoners, and they never 
return to their brothers and sisters and parents." 

Sally dried her tears. “I am glad after all." She smiled at the 
baby as he laid in his crude cradle, like a dainty flower on a 
thorny stem. 

It was decided that father would make the trip to the settle' 
ment for a fresh supply of powder, as soon as possible. 

“I will give them another day, and then if all is well, I will 
be off at dawn so that I can be home by dark," father said. 

Just as the sun was going down behind the trees, two horse' 
men appeared on the narrow path that led into the forest. 

“Here comes Uncle Jonathan. Oh, goody," sang the children 
and danced out to meet the newcomers. 

When greetings were over, the tall horseman, known as 
Uncle Jonathan, said: 

“There was a raid about fifteen miles down the river today. 
The Indians were fired upon by some settlers who were waiting 
for them. This angered the Indians, as they had not fired the open' 
ing shot, and they burned and raided the cabin and shack of 
Neighbor Greene. They stole the two youngest boys, but their 
father chased them and made them give back the lads." 

“How thankful I am that I did not fire upon them," said 
father, and he told how he had kept watch for two nights, with a 
pile of lead bullets by his side, and with useless powder that could 
not touch them off. 

“You are a lucky man, Dutcher," said his friends. “Take some 
of our powder so that your wife will not be without protection 
while you go to the trading post tomorrow." 

With many good wishes, the two settlers went on their way. 


LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


Life settled back into its usual routine again in the little log cabin. 
It seemed impossible that the cleared space had been full of danc' 
ing Indians only the night before. There was only a mound of 
fresh earth to show where they had dug up the sides of wild hog, 
which had been buried in the ground. 

With the new day father was off for the trading post long 
before Sally and Joe had wakened. He arrived there by noon, 
quickly made his purchases and started for home with only hard 
biscuit and dried meat for food. He wished to be with his family 
by sundown. 

Mother closed the front door and placed the bar so that it was 
securely locked. As night fell, her anxious glance often wandered 
to the path where father would appear. 

“My little ones must go to bed,” she said. 

“Please, mother, let us stay up till father comes,” they pleaded. 
Soft arms held her, and she finally said: 

“Yes, but not a moment later.” 

Finally the dear form they were waiting for appeared. Fling' 
ing open the door, the children rushed out to welcome home the 
head of the family. Mother said: 

“It has been a long day, father. Come, your dinner is hot and 
you must be famished. You have ridden hard to be home at this 
hour.” 

The sleepy children, happy and tired, stumbled up the lad' 
der to their loft room. Below, mother and father were talking 
in the firelight, as father ate his meal. Mrs. Dutcher showed her 
husband Sally's sampler, and said with a laugh: 

“Sally is like myself. As a child I hated to sew. Tell me, father, 
who did you see at the post today?” 




Little Sally Dutcher 

PART FOUR 



*T was a beautiful Sunday morning in early fall and the farm 
ily was astir early. It was the custom to go to church 
services whenever possible, although the worshipers had 
to ride many miles on horseback to reach the church. It 
was a great undertaking to take three children so far, and often 
the family stayed over night at the stockade, and returned home 
on Monday. 

As the weather was so fine, it was decided that the entire 
family should make the journey. Mother hurried to get the three 
children dressed in their best homespun clothes. She placed her 
poke bonnet on her head and wrapped her long cape about her. 
She mounted to the saddle and took baby John in her arms. With 
one child in front of her in the saddle, and one behind, the little 























LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


procession was ready. Father led the way, with gun in hand, 
ready to defend his family from possible enemies. 

“Is everything all right, Polly?” Mr. Dutcher asked. 

“Yes, I believe so, father, provided you have given the stock 
an extra supply of feed, and put out the fire in the fireplace. I 
would like to spend the night with my sister, if possible. When I 
think of winter, when it is so hard to get to the post, I wish I had 
gone more often in the mild weather.” 

The early settlers west of the Allegheny mountains after the 
revolution were serious minded folk, although not quite as strict 
as their Puritan ancestors who had come to New England many 
years before. Every new settlement had its own church as well 
as a stockade and fort. 

The little procession plodded along the many miles to the post. 
As the stockade of the settlement appeared in sight, mother 
straightened her bonnet and moved the baby, who was now 
asleep, to the other arm. 

“How quickly we have come today,” she said. “There is the 
fort. See, children, floating on the breeze is our own flag, the flag 
of Washington. You must always defend that flag, and never do 
anything to dishonor it.” 

The children peered around old Molly’s head to see the beau' 
tiful flag of red and white stripes and thirteen blue stars. This first 
memory of their country’s flag was one that the children never 
forgot, nor the words of their loyal hearted mother. 

As they neared the settlement, they heard the noise of a drum. 

“Why is the man beating a drum, mother?” Joe asked. 

“That is to call the people to church,” was the reply. “When 
mother was a girl in New England, we had bells to call us to 
church.” And mother sighed as she thought of her early home. 

By this time the Dutchers were within the stockade, and were 
greeted by a big, stout man, with a hearty voice. 

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Dutcher. How are you this 
lovely morning, and all the little family, too?” 












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LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


“Good morning, Mr. Smith , 11 said father and mother. 

Father helped mother to dismount, and then took the mare to 
the public stables, where all of the settlers left their horses. 
Mother and children awaited father at the church door. If her 
limbs were cramped and tired from her long ride, she did not coim 
plain, nor did the children. With a smiling face she greeted her 
friends. 

“Children, you must sit with the other little ones. Be careful 
not to make any noise. Sally, you will be held responsible for Joe . 11 

It was an old custom for the men to sit on one side of the 
church, the women in another section, and the children in a group 
by themselves. The smaller ones were watched over by a man who 
had a long pole with which he tapped children who became noisy, 
smartly on the head. A child that had once felt the tap of the pole, 
did not want to have it happen again. 

After the singing of a few hymns, the long sermon began. 
Perhaps it was the heat in the church, perhaps it was the long 
ride in the open air that made Joe sleepy. At any rate, his curly 
head nodded, and soon he was leaning against Sally, fast asleep. 

“Wake up, brother,' please wake up. Oh, dear, here comes the 
man , 11 said Sally, as the man with the long pole approached. 
While the pole had a hard knob on one end, it was fortunate for 
Joe that there was a feather on the other end. This was used to 
keep not only the children awake, but their elders also. Sally was 
not able to waken her smaller brother before the end of the pole 
with the feather on it descended upon Joe's nose, and he awoke, 
coughing and sneering. 

The children did not dare laugh or even smile at Joe. Like 
their elders, they were expected to sit stiffly in their seats, hour 
after hour, and listen to the sermon. It is not to be wondered at 
that Sally's glance turned to the window where she could see the 
sunlit trees outside. 

Finally the sermon was over, and the people rose to sing one 
of those grand old hymns that we sing in our churches today. The 
people walked slowly out of church. In cold weather, many 


A TRUE STORY 


brought their charcoal stoves, so that they would not become 
chilled during the long service in the unheated room. 

Solemnly the people greeted each other, for this was Sunday, 
and a day for sober behavior and reflection. Little Joe, who had 
been sitting quietly so long, felt glad to be out under the blue 
sky once more. 

Shyly Sally asked, "Mother, are we going to Aunt Sally’s 
house for dinner?” 

"Why, yes, I believe so,” mother said. "Here comes Aunt 
Sally now,” as her sister came towards them, leading her little girl, 
about Sally’s age, by the hand. 

Greetings were warmly exchanged, and Aunt Sally said: 

"Now, my dear sister, you promised that you would come 
home to dinner with me the very next time you came to church. 
I have two wild roast turkeys ready, and Jonathan and I could not 
eat such a feast in a month, so you must not refuse.” 

"I would love to stay,” mother replied. So it was decided that 
all the Dutcher family would have dinner at Aunt Sally’s and 
Uncle Jonathan’s cabin, which was inside the stockade. This sort 
of pioneer life was, of course, not as dangerous as the Dutcher’s 
life in the open. 

"How nice your cabin is since you have sanded the floor, 
Sally,” Mrs. Dutcher said. "What an enormous bear skin. Is that 
the one of the beast that so nearly killed one of the boys in the 
settlement, and that Brother Jonathan shot?” 

"Yes,” said Aunt Sally. "Did the little people hear the story?” 

"No, Aunt Sally, please tell us,” clamored Sally and Joe to- 
gether. Aunt Sally was never too busy to tell a story, and the chil¬ 
dren loved her very much. 

So Aunt Sally began: 

"It was a snowy day last winter. Darkness settled down early, 
so Peter decided to feed the stock and give them plenty of warm 
bedding. As he opened the door the oxen gave a low 'Moo’ which 
might mean 'Hello.’ Peter watered and fed the stock and started 
for the part cf the barn where he kept the straw for their bed- 



ding. It was so dark Peter could not see very well, but he knew 
his way so he did not carry a lantern. 

“Finally, the animals were fixed for the night, and Peter locked 
the door from the outside, and started for the house. By this 
time the storm was blinding, and Peter had to work his way back 
by shoveling a path. It was lucky for Peter that he had a shovel, for 
this alone saved his life until Uncle Jonathan came to his rescue. 

“Suddenly, a huge black bear appeared before Peter. He must 
have been shot and wounded for he could hardly stagger as he 
faced Peter. No doubt he thought, 'Here is another enemy. I 
must crush him before anyone comes to his aid,’ for he lunged for- 
ward and tried to crush Peter with his great paws. Peter was too 
quick for the bear, and struck at its face repeatedly with his 
shovel, which confused him. If it had not been for his shovel 
Peter might have been killed there in the snowstorm. You may 
be sure Peter is proud of his snow shovel, and it hangs over the 
fireplace in his father’s cabin today. 

“The bear was crazed with the pain of his wounds, and that 
and his great strength made it look badly for Peter, but just then 
Uncle Jonathan came up and shot the bear dead as it struggled 
with Peter. Both fell over in a heap. Uncle had to get help from 
the settlement to move the bear, as he was an enormous brute. 

“Peter wanted Uncle Jonathan to keep the skin as he had 
saved Peter’s life. It is the largest skin in the post, and makes a 
warm covering for the floor.” 


A TRUE STORY 


“I want to shoot a bear like Uncle Jonathan, when I grow 
up,” said Joe. 

The children crawled down from Aunt Sally's lap, now that 
the story was told. As the two women turned to finish the din- 
ner, which was partly cooked, the children were free to play as 
they pleased. 

Joe tried to hide under the huge bear skin rug. From the out" 
side he looked like a small lump, hardly bigger than the animal's 
head. Sally promptly pounced upon the lump, and Joe squealed 
and begged to be let out as he was being smothered. 

“Children, are you not ashamed to play on the Sabbath day? 
I am surprised at you, Sally. You ought to know better than Joe. 
You must sit down on a chair and learn your catechism until din" 
ner is ready.” 

Silently Sally obeyed, and Joe, who was too young to read, 
curled up on the rug where he could watch the preparations for 
dinner. 

Soon the family were seated around the rough table made of 
split logs. The food was simple, but there was plenty for all; and 
all were hungry. Hot corn cake, hominy pounded by hand, pota' 
toes baked in the fireplace, baked squash and wild turkey roasted 
whole. This was not unlike a dinner which might have been 
served in New England that very day, with the exception of the 
wild turkeys. 

The children did not have to be told not to talk at the table. 
They had been trained to know that “children should be seen and 
not heard.” Of course, the little ones were allowed to ask for their 
food, but withal, the meal was a quiet one. 

It was the custom to say grace before eating. Many of the 
frontier men and women came from New England, and they had 
carried with them those religious beliefs that had caused them to 
come to America in the first place. This custom was one that their 
ancestors who arrived in the Mayflower had followed. Little Sab 
ly's mother was descended from the earliest settlers and never 


LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


tired of telling her children stories of the early days, which had 
been told her by her mother. 

The children were put to rest before taking the long ride 
home. It would be long after darkness had settled down over the 
earth before the Dutcher family could expect to arrive at their 
own cabin, so Aunt Sally said: 

"I do wish you would spend the night, Polly. I hate to have 
you take the long ride home in the dark. I see you so seldom, and 
we have had almost no visit at all.” 

“I know it, sister, but there are so many things to do before 
winter sets in. The spring is high now, and I feel that I must do a 
big washing tomorrow. Of course my husband will help me, and 
little Sally is a treasure. Do you know I have started her to spin, 
and she is not yet seven years old.” 

“That is quite young, even for a frontier girl, but then Sally 
is such a little woman, and she is so eager to learn.” 

“I think that she must take after her Aunt Sally in that,” 
mother said. “Do you remember how I hated to sew?” 

“Yes, and how proud you were when mother said you could 
set a perfect seam.” 

Goodbyes were said, and the Dutcher household started off. 
On and on they rode, and as night dropped down, Sally said: 

“Hasn't it been a lovely day? I 
wish I could go to Aunt Sally's every 
day.” 

“What would mother do without 
her little girl?” 

“Oh, I don't mean to stay, mother. 
I wouldn't want to live there, but it is 
such fun to visit.” 

The children were so sleepy they 
hardly knew when and how 
they reached home, after the 
close of this happy frontier 
^ Sabbath day. 



A TRUE STORY 


Autumn brought a full harvest of fruits and grain, as well as 
vegetables in abundance. There was plenty of Indian corn to be 
ground into cornmeal, or made into hominy for winter use, and 
salted and pickled meats galore. It was with a thankful heart that 
mother said: 

“Father, I know how the Pilgrims felt when they had their 
first Thanksgiving. After all our labor, we have plenty. How can 
we show our gratitude to God for the harvest?" 

“We might invite your sisters and brothers here, and my farm 
ily, and have a feast." 

“Our cabin is too small, father. If we do not ask all, I am 
afraid some will feel hurt." 

Finally it was decided to have a great Thanksgiving dinner 
and all the aunts, uncles, and cousins were asked to come. As 
there were so many, the children were to eat after their elders 
had finished, for this was the only way Mrs. Dutcher could 
manage her large party. 

When Sally and Joe were told about the Thanksgiving feast, 
they danced for joy. 

“Then I can play with all my cousins, and show them my 
corncob dolls, and my tea sets made of acorns. Won't we have a 
good time, Joey?" Sally always called her brother Joey when she 
was very happy. 

The children were allowed to do their share of work of get' 
ting ready for the visitors. Joe carried in wood until his arms 
were tired. Sally helped mother to peel apples and run errands. 
Mother was busy baking for several days, making cakes and pies. 
She had to use bear fat for shortening, which made very good pie 
crust. Better pies were never made in New England than the 
berry pies, pumpkin and mince pies that were baked and set away 
for Thanksgiving Day upon this occasion. 

Father was able to shoot a deer which was partly cut up into 
steaks and partly stewed for the feast. Neighbor Greene brought 
a bear which he had killed, and this was roasted whole over a 
huge fire in the dooryard. Then, too, a whole flock of wild tun 



keys were sighted, and several shot. These were roasted over the 
fire in the fireplace. 

Finally the great day dawned, clear and cold, and it brought 
with it all the aunts, uncles and cousins. A long table had been 
built, and, at last, the great dinner was ready. The big table bent 
under the weight of food, and the air was filled with delicious 
odors. 

The guests had arrived on foot and horseback. There were 
large children, small children and babies with their parents, and 
all was bustle and noise. 

“What a perfect day,” said some. “How good everything 
smells,” said others, or: “How hungry we are after the ride in 
the cold air.” 

“We will sit down as soon as the minister comes,” said Mrs. 
Dutcher. The preacher was a very important person in frontier 
life, and no occasion was complete without him. 

Soon his ruddy face was seen, as he came through the forest 
on horseback. He was a man greatly beloved along the entire 
frontier, and made his home first in one settlement and then in 
another. Like all pioneers he was a good marksman, and he was 
just as clever in caring for the sick and needy. There was not an' 
other man on the frontier like Steven Woods, for that was the 
preacher’s name. 






A TRUE STORY 


“Welcome, friend,” was the greeting from all sides. When the 
laughter and talking had quieted down, Mrs. Dutcher said: 

“Come, good people, let us be seated. Mr. Woods, will you 
ask grace?” 

Then the feasting began. The children were sent outdoors to 
play, and Sally had a romp with her cousins, girls of all ages. To 
the little girls she showed her playthings, all home-made but 
doubly dear because they were the only toys that frontier chil¬ 
dren had. 

While the girls played with Sally's dolls made of corncobs, 
and drank tea from an acorn tea set, the boys were exploring the 
barn. Frontier children never tired of playing that they were 
Indians and they loved to dress themselves in feather bands with 
long streamers floating from the back of the bonnet. It was in 
the midst of an exciting play-attack on the cabin that they were 
called to come in and get ready for dinner, as the older ones had 
finished at last. 

This was a day that Sally and Joe never forgot. It was a day 
without mishap, a day of endless good things to eat, and cheer 
and happiness on all sides. 

“How happy we are that there are no sick ones, that each one 
of us has plenty of food for the winter,” said Preacher Woods. 

If you and I had to live in one room which was often cold, ex¬ 
cept in front of the fireplace, we might not think we were lucky. 
Yet the pioneer was happy in his deerskin or homespun clothes, 
and asked nothing better than a log cabin to protect him from the 
cold and his enemies. 

Like all good things, the day had to come to a close. The 
guests departed with regrets that they must go. After the last one 
had left, there was heard a knock at the door. Father hastened 
to unlock the door, thinking that someone had returned. 

Instead of one of his family, there stood five Indians. Since 
the attack of the early spring when the Indians had burned 
Neighbor Greene's cabin, the settlers had not seen much of the 


LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 


Indians. Father did not want to offend the savages, and yet he 
did not trust them to enter. So he said: 

“What does my red brother wish today?” 

“Indian chief send white brother present,” and they held up a 
belt beaded in gay patterns. 

“Thank your great chief,” said Mr. Dutcher. “Will not my 
red brothers enter my cabin and eat of the great feast prepared for 
my white brothers?” 

“The red brothers thank their white brother,” said the leader. 

Little Sally and Joe were afraid of the five Indians, and hid 
behind their mother’s skirts. With the same kindly manner that 
she had served her own family, Mrs. Dutcher helped her Indian 
guests to the remains of the huge Thanksgiving feast, and they 
ate hungrily. 

After grunts of thankfulness, the Indians departed into the 
night. Father barred the front door, and mother said with a sigh: 

“We surely have a great deal to be thankful for, father, and 
for nothing more than that the Indians are friendly to us again.” 

“Father, what do you call this belt?” Sally asked. 

“This is a wampum belt, and it stands for friendship between 
the chief and ourselves so long as we both live.” 

“Isn’t it pretty, Joe?” asked Sally. 

“Do you suppose father will let us play with it?” 

“No, children, this is one of our most precious possessions and 
father will hang it over the fireplace, where we can always see it.” 

And sq our story closes with the end of Thanksgiving day, 
with Little Sally Dutcher and her family chatting happily in their 
simple but cosy log cabin on the frontier of what is now one of 
the greatest states of our great country. 









■C-' 

7 £> 

JUVENILE 


SERIES 

PRINTED IN COLORS 

STORIES FOR YOUNG GIRLS AND BOYS 


Written 

By May Furlong 


Illustrated 

By Elsa Goldy Young 


JEAN ALICE and the CANDY COTTAGE 

With Color Crayograph—A Fairy Story for Little Girls 

JACK and the GREAT ADVENTURE 

With Color Crayograph—A Story of Adventure for Little Boys 

DREAM ISLAND 

With Color Crayograph—A Sleepy'time Story for Both Girls and Boys 


STORIES FOR OLDER GIRLS AND BOYS 

Written Illustrated 

By Beth Proctor By Fay Turpin 

THE TALE of a LUCKY DOG 

A New Story of Old Japan—For Both Girls and Boys 

LITTLE SALLY DUTCHER 

A True American Story—For Girls and Boys and Grown-up People 


New Titles in Preparation 


JORDAN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO, U. S. A. 





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